


A Pale Red Camellia, a Waving Sunflower

by akaatsuki



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, M/M, but i have one job and it is keimao, i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaatsuki/pseuds/akaatsuki
Summary: Or: 30 Days of Keimao.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day One: First Meeting.

“Um, is this the student council room?” 

Keito finishes the sentence he had been writing before he places his pen to the side, pushing up the bridge of his glasses with two fingers as he looks up from his papers and towards the doorway. His eyes narrow as he takes in the presence of a first year he’d never seen before, hands clenched and held uncertainly before him, hesitating to step into the room as if fearing that it would bring him some horrible omen. The kouhai glances towards the president’s desk, clearly having anticipated that he would actually be in the room, and now seems to be at a loss for words upon realizing that he wasn’t. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he looks haphazardly towards Keito, a lost fawn seeking guidance as to how and where it should move next. 

“…It is,” the vice-president responds bluntly, and, deeming this not important enough to stop his work, picks his pen up and resumes what he was writing. “If you’re here to drop off a form, leave it on my desk and go. I have work to finish.” 

“Ah, um, I’m not here to drop anything off,” the first years responds quickly, thumbing the cuff of his sleeve with one hand, “I’m, uh…Sakuma-senpai told me that I got the position of treasurer. So…I’m here to help out with the work.” 

Keito blinks at him momentarily, abruptly looking back down to his desk and shuffling several stacks of papers around. The so-called treasurer awkwardly idles in his place as Keito finally locates one of tens of sticky notes stuck to the surface of the desk, covered with Rei’s familiar handwriting. He scans what’s written there—the only notice that he vaguely remembers being given about a new member of the council from the president—and looks back towards the anxious first year who _still_ hasn’t decided whether or not he should actually step into the room. He bites back the urge to sigh at how unsuitable for the job he appears to be, looking so nervous that Keito wonders if he’ll wind up running away if he raises his voice at him.   
  
“Are you Isara?” Keito asks pointedly, glancing back towards the note to make sure that he’d gotten the name correct. 

Mao nods immediately ( _ too quick,  _ Keito notes), and the vice-president beckons him to enter the room at last, to which he obediently complies. Keito begins to gather a stack of papers, grabbing and slapping a sticky note onto the top sheet and writing some quick explanation onto the paper. He waits until Mao reaches the front of his desk before handing it to him without explanation, gaze sharp upon the first year, trying to gauge his reaction to the sudden workload. He takes it into his arms without complaint, looking down at the note upon the top of the pile for a moment before he nods quietly in affirmation.  _ At least he can follow directions, _ Keito thinks to himself as he watches him turn in the opposite direction to head to the smallest (and emptiest) desk in the room. 

“Isara.” 

Mao turns his body around after taking no more than three or four steps away from Keito’s desk, staring at the vice-president like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Keito reaches behind his desk for a moment to grab something, and just as Mao tries to look over to get a clue as to what it was, Keito sits back up and tosses the object onto the stack of papers that Mao was carrying. Mao steps forward in a fluster in order to catch it, nearly stumbling and tripping over his own feet as he does so. The rounded can of an energy drink rolling along the surface of the papers until Mao’s chest stops it in its place. He blinks at the object for a moment, looking up towards his senior with furrowed brows. 

“You’ll need it,” Keito says, already going back to the work he’d previously been doing. “Trust me.” 

“Ah…okay,” Mao answers neutrally, feeling unable to decline the sudden gift. He stares at it a moment longer before he looks back towards the other. “Thank you, um…” 

“Hasumi,” Keito offers. “I’ll be serving as your vice-president.” 

“Thank you, then, Fukukaichou,” he corrects himself, and then, in a gesture that Keito finds completely unexpected, he  _ smiles.  _ It’s followed by a short, polite bow of his head and shoulders, which only lasts for a few short seconds before he remembers that he’s balancing a can on top of the stack of papers and panics as he scrambles to stop it from falling—really, how  _ incorrigible _ . His cheeks flushing with color, Mao hugs the papers and the drink to his chest instead, bowing properly this time. 

“Please take care of me from now on,” he manages to say in a quiet voice, though admittedly, Keito is impressed that he could even  _ bring _ himself to speak after putting on such an embarrassing display. 

He has the sudden, biting urge to tell Mao to leave and to not bother coming back, because whatever Sakuma Rei had promised him certainly was not going to be worth it when the rest of the school would come to hate him for the work they’d put upon his shoulders. Keito knows well that the work Mao will be doing in the near future will be dirty, underhanded, and completely ill-befitting of someone with such bright eyes, still untouched by how cruel the world could really be. His neck prickles with guilt at the thought of getting such an innocent person involved in their mess, but just as he’s treated this same feeling when thinking about his plans with Rei, he opts to ignore it and focus on the end result.  _ Someone like him will either quit or be forced out of this position by the end of the year, anyway,  _ he tells himself, acknowledging it as a factual statement rather than a mere rationalization of why he shouldn’t feel bad for stamping down his guilt.  _ There’s no need for him to know anything more than how to complete paperwork.  _

“…Do your best,” Keito replies simply, coldly, and looks back at his papers when Mao turns to walk towards his newly-acquired seat in the office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: Jealousy.

“You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?” 

If Mao had to describe Eichi in any three words, he would be contented with three synonyms to the word  _ terrifying.  _ Even after the hardships of the DDD and despite the fact that Trickstar had more than proven their strength to  _ fine,  _ it didn’t make Eichi’s presence any less nerve-wracking for him. There was still  _ something _ about him—just an overall  _ aura _ that he emitted, maybe—that filled Mao with nothing but anxiety and cluttered his mind with every possible way to phrase  _ I need to leave right now, as quickly as possible.  _ And, sure, he knows that plenty of other students felt the same way on some level, because at the end of the day, Eichi Tenshouin was… _ definitely _ intimidating. But after working alongside him (kind of) during the year as a member of the student council, one would think that Mao would have at least warmed up to Eichi to the point where he wasn’t filled with complete and utter dread by just occupying the same room as him. 

Of course, they would be wrong. But maybe they would be just a  _ little  _ bit right, because Mao (as guilty as it makes him to admit it) knows that it isn’t Eichi  _ alone _ that makes him want to sink into the ground and disappear, but what Eichi  _ has. _

Or, to put it in the simplest terms that he could (which he didn’t like to do, because it involved actually accepting the hard truth): Mao was incredibly, terribly,  _ awfully _ jealous of Eichi. 

Ritsu’s voice would become white noise in his ears when he caught a glimpse of the two walking through the courtyard together, Eichi smiling as he admired the colors of summer flowers while Keito’s lips moved in what would undoubtedly be one of his infamous lectures. His ears would flush with envy as he tried to ignore their conversation in the student council room, focusing so intensely on redirecting his attention to his paperwork that hardly  _ any _ of the paperwork actually got  _ finished.  _ It was all the casual, little interactions that they’d have, so evidently warm and intimate, that made his heart burn with what he begrudgingly had to accept as jealousy. 

Perhaps it’s  _ because _ it was Eichi and not some other third year that Mao felt so particularly torn-up over the whole thing, because anyone with a working pair of eyes could see as plain as day that the two were practically soul-bound. Not only were they childhood friends, but  _ apparently _ they’ve spent every waking  _ moment _ with each other all the way until their last year of high school. Keito visits him each and every time he’s hospitalized with fresh flowers and would willingly sprint across the entire length of their campus if Eichi so much as sent him a two-word text, and Eichi simply seemed so fond of him that he  _ must _ be fully aware of how special what he had really was. The most obvious conclusion to the whole thing was that, certainly, without a doubt, those two  _ belonged _ together. 

Mao wanted so  _ badly  _ to be happy for them. He tried to pass his feelings off as the immature puppy love that he’d felt previously and focus on the fact that Keito must be the happiest when he’s with Eichi, but trying to excuse his feelings only seemed to make them claw away at his chest even more.  _ Only a terrible, selfish person would interfere with something so special,  _ he would tell himself as the clock timed his sleepless hours, as if convincing himself that he was horrible would somehow eliminate his feelings instead of making them ache even more (it didn’t, clearly). And to make it worse, he was plagued with an intense guilt each time that he stayed late to help with student council work. Even the smallest of praises; even simple smalltalk; or worst of all, when Keito would put a hand on his head to tell him that he’d done a good job; all if it just made his stomach flutter even further with a mixture of longing and guilt for being unable to pursue that longing—any more if this, and Mao was  _ certain _ that he’d begin coughing up flower petals onto his desktop. 

The last thing he wanted was for either of them to catch on. The thought of ruining someone else’s happiness terrified him far more than the prospect of pursuing his own thrilled him. He was hoping that he’d be able to figure out a way to move on, and to stop himself from feeling like he’d been thrown into a shoujo manga (not that he reads them, of course, no, never) every time he’s alone with the vice-president. At least, he was hoping to do so before Eichi or Keito could figure out that something was amiss and look into it, because Mao knows that he’s an awful,  _ awful _ liar when it comes to his feelings, and if he had to face a rejection from the person who’s been making his knees weak for the past few months, he doesn’t know if he’d  _ survive, _ quite frankly. On top of the guilt of having been so childishly jealous of the two of them, Mao thinks he’d just hand Ritsu a shovel and ask him as politely as possible to bury him six feet under. And he doesn’t even want to  _ think _ about what the other members of Trickstar might say about it. 

That’s why, as Eichi sits on the other side of his desk, knuckles resting comfortably against his cheek with a knowing smile upon his lips, Mao feels just about ready to beg any god listening to strike him down with lightning. He has to answer Eichi’s question, he knows, and he  _ knows _ that he can’t lie, because lying to Eichi scares him more than…well,  _ not _ lying to Eichi? There’s no real way to  _ not _ feel intimidated and puny in his presence, he thinks, and getting caught in a lie will probably make it infinitely worse. 

_ But, well, there’s nothing particularly wrong about playing dumb, is there?  _ his mind rationalizes in a stupid,  _ stupid _ attempt to stall what inevitably must come. 

“Um—what do you mean?” is the best that he can manage(and it’s  _ horrible _ ), his voice small and nervous and  _ obviously _ hiding something. The way that Eichi chuckles in response makes him want to make a run for the door, and it takes all of his willpower  _ not _ to. 

“Keito,” Eichi replies simply, confidently, striking the nail right on the head and leaving Mao no other diversion away from the topic. “You sure like to be around him, don’t you, Mao-kun? You have such a cute smile when you are.” 

“I…I’m just doing my job,” Mao answers with a weak excuse, the grip on his pen so tight that he has to let the tip rest on the desk’s surface before he accidentally ruins the paperwork he’s trying to finish. Thinking about how embarrassingly red his face must be only makes him feel even more suffocated, and he stares emptily at the words below him, hoping that he’d just disappear. 

“Is that so?” the president’s eyes glimmer with mischief as he watches Mao helplessly try to keep himself afloat. “Because, you know, Mao-kun, Keito likes to be around you, as well.” 

Mao’s head snaps up so quickly that his leg swings forward beneath the desk and catches Eichi’s shin in a rough kick, to which he’s filled with raw horror as Eichi flinches from the sudden force. Before he can think of any other response, Mao practically throws his head down onto the desk, his forehead hitting the surface a bit too forcefully as he flattens his palms against the wood—and Eichi has to admit (impressed, mind you), he’s never seen somebody attempt dogeza while seated. A series of profuse apologies follows, and Eichi can’t help but laugh against, softly, at how much of an utter disaster the kouhai has become. He shakes his head with an amused smile, resting a finger to his chin. 

“It’s  _ alright,  _ Mao-kun,” he reassures, holding back the urge to laugh again for Mao’s sake. “I was being serious, though. Keito really is hopelessly fond of you, so why be so shy? Isn’t it obvious?” 

…Him and Keito?  _ Obvious?  _

Mao slowly lifts his head, concluding that Eichi was either stupid or the cruelest person on Earth (maybe both). But Eichi is looking back at him with an expression that’s both light-hearted and serious at the same time(somehow), as if assuring that this wasn’t some sort of lie or trick. Slowly, Mao’s brows knit together as he tries to figure out how to respond, averting his gaze to a particularly interesting patch of the floor. 

“…Not really,” he mutters. “You and Fukukaichou look like the most obvious thing in the world.”

Eichi’s expression falls into one of surprise, and he blinks speechlessly, the silence feeling more and more crushing on Mao’s shoulder with each passing second. It’s then that Eichi starts to smile, and then chuckle, and then it turns into full-blown  _ laughter _ that Mao has never heard from him before, and it’s so stark and  _ different _ that Mao lifts his head up to look at him again. Eichi covers his mouth with his hand as his laughter begins to turn into a coughing fit, and Mao leans forward in shock with a concerned  _ “Kaichou!”  _ It takes Eichi several moments to collect himself, but he does, thankfully, because Mao thinks the only thing that could make this day worse is if Eichi died on the floor in front of him. Withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket, Eichi wipes at his lips before looking at Mao with a light in his eyes that Mao finds, surprisingly, isn’t malicious at all. 

“You poor thing,” he smiles as he tucks the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Is that why you won’t say anything? Because you think that Keito and I are in love?” 

_ Yes, obviously, that’s exactly the reason,  _ Mao wants to yell in frustration, but figures that it’s safer to nod quietly. Eichi shakes his head with another soft chuckle that is interrupted when he has to clear his throat, and Mao fears that he might collapse into another fit. 

“You’re worried over  _ nothing,  _ Mao-kun,” he reassures, and confusion paints itself across Mao’s face as he realizes that Eichi isn’t laughing  _ at _ him, but more-so  _ with  _ him. “Keito and I aren’t like that. Ah, well, he  _ did  _ have quite the long-term crush on me, but we’ve since moved on from that. That’s why I was so pleased to see how fond he is of you, Mao-kun.” 

Mao stares dumbly at Eichi, suddenly doubting his fluency in the Japanese language. He opens his mouth unthinkingly, and nothing comes out—just a small, confused noise that only makes the back of his neck prickle with further humiliation when Eichi stifles a laugh at it. And the last thing he expects is for Eichi’s hand to place itself comfortingly on top of Mao’s head, making it infinitely more difficult to find words. He looks up at Eichi with wide eyes, and for the first time, feels a semblance of comfort in the smile that the other wears. Maybe  _ this _ is what Keito sees in him: a smile that’s filled with such genuine happiness that it could rival that of an angel’s. Much to his own surprise, he doesn’t pull or push him away, but lets Eichi pat his hair down and lift himself from his seat, looking accomplished. 

“We only have so much time in the school year, Mao-kun,” he says, gently. His voice carries a warmth that Mao has never heard before—or maybe he’s just never  _ realized _ it before? “If you feel that strongly, you should tell him. Keito’s head is really very thick, you know; but he likes you very much.” 

Mao looks up at him in silent awe, nodding slowly. The newfound discovery that maybe Eichi isn’t so terrifying after all sits comfortably in his chest as he watches the senpai leave the room, and when he picks up his pen next, he finds that he’s laughing at himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really love this sort of relationship between eichi and mao ; _ ;


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Hand Holding.

Mao remembers clearly the first time that Keito had walked him home.

He’d offered on a late summer’s evening, after the two of them had stayed late yet again to finish some of the paperwork that had been piling up on their desk. Just as they had exited the front gate of the campus and were about to part ways for the night, Keito had turned around to stop him, seeming to have finally made up his mind on the matter. Mao had still responded modestly and politely despite the fact that they’d been in a relationship for over a week now, insisting that Keito didn’t have to walk him home when the sun was already setting beneath the horizon. But he supposes that Keito had been able to tell that Mao was only being polite, because he’d simply smiled (Mao loved it when he smiled, as it was a rarity to see during school hours) and told Mao that he was offering because he wanted to. With bright eyes and a far too giddy smile, Mao had immediately agreed, his stomach fluttering at the thought; he’d walked home with Ritsu before, of course, but this was…_ different, _obviously. 

He remembers vividly each little detail of that evening walk: the pleasant breeze that cooled them down from the day’s fading heat; the shimmering of the sea that they passed along the sidewalk; the sky being painted with reds, oranges, and pinks as the sun bled over the water and sank beneath its surface. Mao remembers how his heart had raced with each step, too far from Keito for their arms to brush together, but close enough to feel his presence. He’d clutched onto the shoulder strap of his school bag, anchoring himself to reality lest he float up and away towards the colored sky above. The cicadas hummed beneath the occasional sound of a passing car or bus, singing their final song of summer before autumn would eventually come to usher them away. He remembers stealing glances at Keito every so often, as if proving to himself that it was all real, and remembers how his heart had leapt into his throat every time at the realization that it was. Keito had looked so calm, almost ethereal in the light of the setting sun, although Mao had sworn that he could see a trace of nervousness flicker across his features every so often. He’d wondered if Keito, too, couldn’t hear his own voice in his head over the hammering of his heartbeat. 

It was quiet—painfully quiet—so much so that Mao could hear his own breath as he walked. Usually when they were in the council room together, conversation was easy when it was so necessary with their work, but now, neither of them can seem to figure out what to talk about to break the ice. It’s comforting, at least, to know that Keito is in the same situation as himself; the fact alone that Keito—stone-faced, professional Keito—could _ feel _ nervous was a comfort. And it was endearing, Mao had thought, to know that Keito might just be as anxious about embarrassing himself as Mao was. 

Although the silence wasn’t unpleasant, especially after such a long day, Mao had begun to wrack his mind for anything to talk about. Unfortunately, all of the articles that Makoto had texted to him(he refused to admit that he’d actually opened them despite having practically memorized them at this point) and all of the text messages of “perfect advice” that Subaru had sent him(he can honestly say that he _ hadn’t _ opened those) were conveniently stuffed into some dark corner of his mind beyond recall. Eventually, he’d found himself so preoccupied with trying to break the silence that he’d begun fixating his gaze upon the ground beneath him instead of the ground in front of him, and then became so engrossed in his own thoughts that he’d failed to notice the color of the sidewalk change to the color of pavement. 

Mao had only been snapped out of his daze when someone’s hand had forcefully grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him backwards, causing him to stumble and nearly fall from the sudden force. Thankfully, he’d kept his footing, and when he lifted his chin to blink in bewilderment at the world around him, he’d found Keito looking back at him with an exasperated look upon his face. He glances to the side, lost, until he notices the flashing red symbol on the crosswalk signal and feels his stomach flip at the realization. 

_ “Good grief, _ you could’ve gotten _ hurt, _” Keito scolded him with a serious expression, and Mao flinched—Keito had always been soft on him, and being on the opposite end for once was different. He understood why, of course, but even so, he couldn’t help but sulk at the heavy feeling of guilt pooling in his stomach. Surprisingly, Keito had softened his tone(and his glare) when he saw Mao’s sullen expression, and Mao had nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Keito’s hand slide from his wrist and to his palm, where their fingers entwined. “What’s the matter?” 

“I—I’m really sorry,” Mao had apologized quietly, unsure of whether he should feel ashamed at his mistake or elated at the warmth of Keito’s hand against his own. At that moment, it had been a pretty even mixture of both, he thinks. “I was just…I—I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

He remembers how Keito had squeezed his hand and reassured him, murmuring something about how Mao had nearly given him a heart attack, and somehow murmuring it in a way that Mao couldn’t help but smile sheepishly at. Maybe, he thinks now, it was because that must’ve been Keito’s way of telling Mao that he was feeling the same. 

More than anything, Mao thinks, he remembers when the signal turned white and they walked across the street, and how Keito’s hand remained protectively in his own for the rest of the way home, their palms pressed together all the while. Conversation miraculously came easily to them after the hiccup, although Mao can’t recall perfectly what it was they talked about; the most vivid memory is how happy he was to feel that hand, so jubilant that he’d felt like he might get misty-eyed if he lingered on the feeling for too long. The sun was just barely visible by the time they’d finally reached Mao’s front door, and Mao voiced his concerns on whether or not Keito would make it home alright, and Keito had chuckled and reassured him that he would be just fine. 

He remembers his hand lingering on the handle of his front door, hesitant, unable to bring himself to look away from Keito’s soft expression in the warm light—unable to bring himself to let go of Keito’s hand just yet. He remembers how long the silence between them had been, and remembers how his body had seemed to move on its own, finally separating his hand from Keito’s and standing on his toes to just barely reach Keito’s cheek, his hands steady on Keito’s shoulders. He remembers murmuring a quick, embarrassed “thank you,” and remembers how flushed his face had felt and how flushed Keito’s face had _ looked, _and remembers saying a quiet goodbye and finally stepping into his foyer, closing the front door behind him. And he remembers his back sliding down against the door until he was sitting on the mat, burying his burning face into his hands with a choked noise and wondering if Keito was doing something similar on the other side. 

(Yes, he would find out a couple years later, he had.) 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Interacting with Friends.

“Do you need any help with that, Fukukaichou?” 

Keito holds the corner of the banner firmly against where he intends to pin it to the wall, making sure he had it pressed securely before turning to look at the bottom of the ladder. A pair of sparkling blue eyes meets his own, the second year’s brows raised and his lips forming a curious “o” shape as he stares up at where Keito is positioned at the top of the ladder. Keito’s gaze, however, falls down to the other’s feet with a disapproving scowl. 

“Are you walking your dog on campus, Akehoshi?” he demands the answer to an obvious question as the furry little thing sniffs at the dirt.  _ “Again?”  _

Subaru steps to the side to hide the animal behind his legs, but alas, he’s far too plump around the middle, and he pokes his head out into sight a few seconds later, anyway. In addition, the leash tying them together is a striking red that Keito believes he would be able to spot from halfway across the campus grounds. Even so, the junior puts on an innocent smile as he shakes his head—how incorrigible, these bright-eyed rule-breakers. 

_ “Really,  _ how many times do I…” Keito begins, but when he remembers that he’s currently in the middle of the fourteenth frustrating task of the day, he sighs heavily, unable to go through with the lecture he’d already had formulated. “Forget it. I’m very busy right now, so please just go home, Akehoshi.” 

Subaru blinks, dumbstruck, staring up at his senior with an alarmed look on his face. Daikichi licks his lips and sniffs at his owner’s ankles for the duration of the silence. Keito narrows his eyes as the other evidently prepares to do the complete opposite of leaving him alone. 

“Fukukaichou, you’re not going to lecture me!? No way—who are you, and what’ve you done with the  _ real _ Fukukaichou!?” the second year demands, pointing an accusatory finger at the vice-president and placing a firm hand upon his hip in an attempt to imitate some sort of hot-shot attorney. “The  _ real _ Fukukaichou would never pass on a chance to talk for two hours straight! Don’t tell me, did Kaichou finally replace you with a robot that just looks super realistic…!?” 

“Don’t point at your upperclassmen, Akehoshi. It’s disrespectful,” Keito scolds bluntly, to which Subaru’s joke fizzles into embarrassment as he lowers his hand with an apologetic bow. 

“Anyway, I’m just busy, is all,” he explains as briefly as possible, holding the corner of the banner in place while simultaneously (and awkwardly) reaching his other arm towards his foot, where a pack of thumbtacks are placed. “As much as I’d like to lecture you on this exact same issue for the twentieth time, I would just be wasting precious daylight.” 

Keito knocks the pack of thumbtacks off of the platform entirely with his strained fingertips, cursing as it hits the floor below—face-down, thankfully, because if he had to pick up 200 thumbtacks right now, he might  _ really  _ lecture Subaru until sundown. He sighs again, sounding twice as exhausted as he had before, and on the verge of climbing down the ladder and giving up altogether. Subaru leans down to pick up the little box, looking back up at the vice-president with a sympathetic smile. 

“It  _ really  _ looks like you could use some help, Fukukaichou,” he offers for the second time, hoping that Keito might at least  _ acknowledge _ it now. Finally, Keito bows his head in acceptance. 

“I suppose it would make things much easier if someone were passing these to me,” he admits wearily. “If you have the time, of course…I would appreciate it.” 

Holding back the urge to laugh at how he’d just watched Keito pass through nearly all five stages of grief over a  _ thumbtack,  _ Subaru moves towards the foot of the ladder with a grin. Realizing that the leash was still wrapped around his wrist, he slips it off and ties it to the bottom of the ladder before beginning to climb up the steps. He opens the small package of thumbtacks when he’s two steps behind Keito, plucking one out while being careful not to prick himself on it and handing it to Keito with an obligatory warning about the pin. Keito takes it slowly from Subaru’s hand, reaching back up to pin the corner of the banner in place and nodding in approval at how it now looks. Withdrawing a thick marker from his pocket, Keito scrutinizes the bottom corner, finally seeming to decide that it needed a few more touch-ups. 

“What are you doing on campus, still?” Keito asks idly as he works. “It’s getting late; hardly anyone who isn’t on the student council is still here. And Trickstar didn’t have practice today, I know.” 

“I always take Daikichi for a walk when I get home,” Subaru answers, amused at how Keito had implied the memorization of Trickstar’s schedule. “I don’t live very far away, so we always walk past Yumenosaki on our way. Daikichi really loves it here, after all!” 

As if supporting the claim, Daikichi looks up at Subaru with a happy little yip. 

“…But, well, I saw you as I was walking past, and thought it’d be nice to talk,” he admits after a brief pause, sounding as though he were picking each word carefully. Keito frowns as he brings the tip of the marker across the paper, trying to read the other’s intention without looking back at him. 

“And…I wanted to apologize.” 

Keito’s head swivels at that. He nearly drops the marker in his hand as well, startled by the sudden change of mood, and only barely catches it after fumbling for a quick moment. Subaru looks towards him on instinct when it seemed like the other might lose his balance, but when Keito winds up fine and stares at him with confusion etched onto his features, Subaru can’t help but turn his gaze anywhere else. 

As much as he ran his mouth during the day, Keito notices, the other doesn’t seem too keen on putting his feelings into words, nor conveying them properly to other people. Mao had mentioned something like it to him before, when he’d been worriedly rambling on about how the things that Subaru left unsaid often drove people away from him rather than drawing them closer. Keito remembers feeling a certain sense of similarity with it, but now that he’s face-to-face with Subaru himself, he realizes that maybe they’re  _ too _ similar in that aspect, as despite his generous vocabulary, Keito can’t find any words to respond with. 

“…Like I said, I’m not going to lecture you for bringing your dog here,” he says instead, bluntly, stupidly. As if Subaru’s tone could have possibly implied that it was something as frivolous as that. And as expected, Subaru shakes his head. 

“It’s just that you and Sari…Sari talks about you a lot,” he says, and Keito can’t tell if he’s staring too intensely at the other. “Really happily, though, so don’t worry…~” 

“I was just kind of worried,” Subaru admits. “After Ukki and Sena-senpai suddenly got so close, even after everything that happened…and then with Sari suddenly telling us that he was close with the vice-president of the student council, I guess…I jumped to conclusions too quickly, and I was worried that things were going to end up…” 

_ Like the DDD.  _ Keito isn’t an idiot; he can tell what Subaru is alluding to without needing the full explanation. Despite how Subaru had prefaced this whole thing as being an apology, Keito feels a pang of guilt in his chest. It’s not far-fetched for Subaru to have feared the worst when two of his unitmates had wound up spending their time with the same people who had been involved in their struggle early on in the year—especially with how little he’d probably heard from their side of the story. So it’s reasonable, he thinks, for Subaru to have been worried. He realizes then how unpleasant the idea of an apology from the other sounds to him. 

“I should be the one apologizing to  _ you,” _ Keito speaks up, his tone a bit softer than before, sincere in a way that even Subaru can pick up on. “As unpleasant as it is to be compared to Sena, it isn’t as though any of you are indebted to me. It was certainly necessary for Trickstar to overcome hurdles along the way, but…to be frank with you, I’m a rather large part of the reason why the four of you had to change things in the first place.” 

Subaru chuckles breathily at that, the mood lifted just a bit as he muses, “I wouldn’t want to be compared to that seaweed head, either, he’s so weird…” 

“…But, I wasn’t really apologizing for any of that? It was more like…I didn’t really give you a chance to begin with, and after that live we had together…” 

He finally seems to work up the nerve to look back at Keito, a much more genuine smile upon his expression as he does. 

“You really are a good person, Fukukaichou. Sari always says that you don’t think that you are, but I really think so. It was really fun to perform with AKATSUKI, and even though it was a competition, you still helped us out and praised us for all the work we put into it. So…well, maybe this is more of a thank you than an apology…? But either way, I’m really glad that Sari is with someone like you.” 

Keito now finds himself  _ truly  _ speechless; he stares blankly at Subaru, looking as though he hadn’t fully processed a word that the other had said. Subaru tries not to laugh at his expression, slowly climbing down the ladder and placing the box of thumbtacks on the bottom step. He works on untying Daikichi’s leash, occupying himself as Keito tries to figure out how to reply to anything that he’d said, although in reality, Subaru doesn’t think Keito  _ needs _ to say anything. He would be satisfied entirely just by knowing that he’d finally got the words out himself. 

But Keito does speak, after a few moments of well-needed silence. Subaru lifts his chin to look up at him again, Daikichi following his gaze with curiosity. 

“…Thank you,” he says, softly, because it’s really all he can manage. “I’m glad, really—and I meant what I said. You Trickstar…I’m very proud of you four.” 

Subaru breaks into a grin at this, his eyes sparkling. Keito feels something warm fluttering in his chest at the sight, and finds a small smile creeping onto his own lips as well. 

“It is getting late, though,” he points out when he can’t find any other way to interrupt the moment, glancing towards the steadily setting sun. “You should really get going—I’m just about finished here, myself. thank you for your help, Akehoshi.” 

Subaru nods, wrapping the leash around his wrist again as Daikichi begins to show his excitement at the implication that they were leaving. Keito begins to climb down from the ladder and the two say their goodbyes, Subaru waving cheerfully to him as Daikichi yips a couple of times, and he thinks to himself how well the two suit each other with their limitless energy. 

Keito folds the ladder and picks up the few supplies he’d brought with him, intending to store them properly and stop by the student council room one last time before making his way home himself. He reaches for the handle of the door, stopped only when he hears Subaru calling out to him one more time, turning to direct his attention towards the second year, who has stopped halfway to the main gate. 

“By the way, Fukukaichou, if you’re not busy tomorrow night, we’re all going out for karaoke! Me, Hokke, Ukki, and Sari, I mean—oh, and Shinonon and Tomoya-kun! I might even invite the seaweed head if I’m in a good mood!” 

Keito blinks in surprise, mulling over the offer for a few moments. It’s not something he can say he’s ever been offered before, really, and he  _ knows _ that he has plenty to work on tomorrow, but…Subaru’s still grinning at him, as if coaxing him to agree, and Keito can’t say that he  _ doesn’t _ want to relax every now and then and enjoy his youth. In fact, the thought of being able to spend time with both Mao and his closest friends is an endearing one, and despite his own awkwardness…he finds himself hoping to get the chance to talk to them all a bit more personally, as he and Subaru had done. It wasn’t as if he had been lying, after all—he really  _ does _ admire Trickstar. And on top of that, he’s always wanted to spend more time with his kouhai without them being so afraid of his presence; Eichi has always teased him about how his efforts to be more approachable only resulted in unsettling them even more. 

He lowers his hand from the door, using it instead to give Subaru a small wave and a reserved smile. 

“I think I would like that,” he answers, reveling in the feeling of being wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keito is trickstarP and also the best boy in the world


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: Stargazing.

“I really thought you were gonna bust us for this, you know,” Mao laughs quietly, his arms resting upon the cool railing of the rooftop. 

“I thought I was going to as well,” Keito admits bluntly, to which Mao can’t help but grin. “You truly  _ are  _ incorrigible, you know. I can’t bring myself to scold you for a single thing. You’d better not burn this school down, Isara—I’m not sure if I’d be able to stop you from dropping the match if you asked me nicely.” 

Mao laughs again, soft and gentle and so  _ pure _ that it tugs at Keito’s heartstrings until he’s worried they might come popping out of his chest. He feels the weight of Mao’s head resting upon his shoulder and relaxes them for him, Mao’s fingers dancing over his own as he moves just a bit closer. Keito would return the gesture if Mao wasn’t just short enough that it would wind up being too stiff and uncomfortable, so he instead opts to rest his hand on top of Mao’s, knowing it’d make him just as happy. He hears the other’s soft, contented sigh at the contact, and smiles knowingly to himself. 

It seemed that Mao was always (although he was too embarrassed to admit it aloud) starved for someone else’s touch, regardless of how much Keito would give him. Not that he minds, of course; much to his own surprise, Keito found physical affection to simply come so  _ easily _ when it was with Mao. He supposes that he has that innocent smile and bright, upturned eyes to blame—who could say no to him, much less  _ not  _ want to spoil him rotten? Or perhaps Keito just has an impossibly low tolerance for cuteness, and to say that Mao was “cute” was a terrible understatement. He’d been terribly soft on Mao from the beginning, even before they were ever a romantic possibility, simply because—well, in all honesty, he  _ was _ bad at scolding his kouhai—simply because Mao has always been the sort of person that one looks at and feels the innate desire to protect. 

“I’m your worst nightmare,” Mao declares proudly, oblivious to how threatening that actually sounded. “I’ll try not to abuse my special privileges to burn down the school, though, so don’t worry.” 

_ You’ll just abuse them to get my attention,  _ Keito wants to jab back at him, but Mao is already breaking into a grin and laughing at his own joke, and Keito can’t find the urge to tease him anymore past the overriding thought of how adorable he is. He finds himself laughing quietly as well, Mao’s bubbly mood as contagious as always. Mao nestles a bit closer to his side in a silent apology for being cheeky, threading his fingers through Keito’s and humming when Keito fondly squeezes his hand in return. 

The stars above them shimmer in a sea of glittering lights across the dark expanse of the night sky. Keito’s used to stargazing, given that his temple is elevated upon a mountain far away from the light pollution of the nearby city, but tonight feels a bit more special—because of Mao, he knows, but he supposes the fact that they’re still at Yumenosaki adds to it, as well. Especially after a day of hard work, and especially in the company of others, Keito finds that stargazing has taken on a different sort of feeling within him. 

Mao, on the other hand, seems completely and utterly entranced by the sight. 

Keito doesn’t dare move to try and steal a glance lest Mao’s comfortable position be disturbed, but he’s certain the starlight is reflected now in those beautiful eyes of his, just as they had been when they’d initially stepped out onto the rooftop terrace. He adored that about him, always admiring with a soft gaze whenever Mao was overcome with that innocent excitement about something, his eyes lit up so prettily and his smile so full of pure intention. Mao was something far more stunning than the view of the buildings below all lit up like little nightlights or even the glittering stars overhead—something that Keito could watch forever and never tire of. It was infatuation at least and pure love at most, so full to the brim with his affection for the other that even being so close to him now just wasn’t enough. 

“I really love you,” Mao murmurs softly from where he rests against Keito’s shoulder, as if he could tell how lost the other was becoming in his thoughts. His voice is tender, and Keito can practically hear the warm smile upon his lips. 

“I love you, too,” Keito replies gently, warmly, in a voice reserved for no other occasion. 

_ “Fiiiiiire!”  _

Subaru’s battle cry comes from a good distance behind them, and when Mao lifts his head and the two of them turn in bewilderment, they watch as an explosion of fiery sparks sends an object hurtling into the sky with a sharp whistle. Neither of them have the time to string a sentence together before a loud  _ bang!  _ echoes in the sky above, and they swivel their heads back towards the stars just in time to watch the fire flower bloom in a burst of color. Keito sighs heavily, holding his glasses in place after they’d nearly flown off of his face in the confusion, and Mao turns to glare at Subaru before he can admire the firework’s beauty for very long. 

“You could’ve at  _ least _ given us a  _ warning,” _ Mao criticizes moodily, and Subaru grins cheekily. 

“That  _ was _ your warning, Sari~!” he insists, clearly proud of himself, and Mao has half the mind to march over there and knock him upside the head. 

Hajime is standing at Subaru’s side, arms loosely hooked around one of his and his eyes fixated upon the place in the sky where the firework had gone off. His expression is awed, still smiling long after the lights have dissipated. Subaru is still eagerly grinning at the sky, only snapped out of his euphoria when Hajime meekly tugs on his wrist and asks for another one, his eyes lit up in a way that makes Mao question whether the soft-spoken first year may actually be similar to Subaru after all. And of course, Subaru immediately gets to work on setting up another, that little motivation firing him up more than Mao figures  _ he _ ever could. 

Hokuto and Tomoya are sitting a short distance away, a fond smile warming Hokuto’s typically cold expression as Tomoya happily snuggles against his side. The second year’s arm is wrapped comfortably around the first year, and to Mao’s surprise, he actually seems so occupied that he hadn’t even made the attempt to scold Subaru for his reckless behavior. Subaru gives another loud shout into the night as he fires off another with a shrill noise, and Tomoya’s eyes twinkle in the bursting light. He extends his arm to point in awe towards the flower in the sky, saying something to Hokuto that Mao can’t make out from his distance, but judging by the softness of Hokuto’s features, he’s sure that it was endearing. 

At the very least, Mao had expected  _ Izumi _ of all people to voice a complaint, but when he turns to try and look for him, he finds that he and Makoto are already lost in their own world. They’re off on the other side of the terrace, their faces lit up by the glow of the sparklers in their hands, and Mao doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a genuine look of happiness on the irritable third year. They almost look as though they’re in some sort of dance with each other as they move carelessly about, leaving trails of light in their wake that glitter like stardust. It’s as if the fireworks had gone completely unnoticed by the pair, although Mao supposes that’s not very surprising, given Izumi’s habit of blocking out the rest of the world when he was with Makoto. But he can’t help but smile to himself as he observes the light in Makoto’s eyes and hears the faint sound of his laughter, figuring that maybe Makoto didn’t  _ mind  _ forgetting about the rest of the world for a while. 

He turns back towards the railing, smiling warmly at Keito as he does, taking the other’s hand into his own once more. Another firework bursts to life in the sky above, and they look up at it together, glowing in the light that shines down upon the rooftop. Mao moves closer to Keito again, letting his head fall back upon his shoulder as he begins to relax and simply enjoy the night as the others were. Keito murmurs something about Subaru being the one most likely to burn down the school at this rate, and Mao laughs, nodding in agreement. 

The next firework is golden, exploding into the shape of a five-pointed star against the sky and shimmering beautifully as it dissipates into the sea of twinkling lights. Even he gasps in awe at the sight, a grin overtaking him before he can stop it as Subaru’s excited declaration of  _ it’s Trickstar, it’s Trickstar!  _ echoes into the night. Hajime and Tomoya both offer their applause, happy conversation and laughter filling the air. 

Mao closes his eyes as the very last traces of the star disappear, and wishes for summer to last forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boyfriend squad boyfriend squad

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i'm so happy to finally have broken my writer's block for keimao!! 
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated! follow me on twitter @senaizuuchan ❤️


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